The girl in the cafe
by dark angel121
Summary: It was her smile that caught his eye. Her smile had drawn him in, pulled him closer and held him in its pearly grip. So naturally he found himself incapable of approaching her.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: None of thiseth belongeth to me-eth.

Author's Notes: Yes it I, and oh look! A new story to read and review! This is incredibly unexpected. I was walking down the dirty streets of downtown Toronto when I was spontaneously attacked by an evil plot bunny from hell. Thus genius was born. Well, I'd like to think of it as genius. It was actually supposed to be a one-shot, but, yeah. Not a one-shot.

Just a clear up: This is an AU and Post Hogwarts fic. Hermione is pure muggle (so she's never met or even heard of Harry and co.) Ron knows how to start a car and Harry likes coffee. And with that I say: Enjoy.

* * *

It was her smile that caught his eye. Her smile had drawn him in, pulled him closer and held him in its pearly grip. So naturally he found himself incapable of approaching her.

It was never even his intention to step inside the quaint café on the corner of the busy street, but it so happened that he was to meet someone at the shop just across the road. He was fifteen minutes early, which was clearly far too early for the best friend who was always nearly half an hour late. So he thought a quick stop at the- he looked up at the sign- NICE DREAM café would help pass the time.

The café looked fairly empty save for the few students swimming in text books and jacked up on caffeine. Then there were the scattered regulars, some with their nose buried in a book or a newspaper, and others with their nose nestled in the palm of their hand as they perused their latest fancy on the brightly lit screen of their laptop. All were sipping, gulping and slurping out of steaming mugs, or cool glasses topped with frothy cream.

He took a seat by the window and glanced out into the street for any sign of his friend. Outside a slender woman dropped several papers on the sidewalk and bent to pick it up. Muttering to herself, she stuffed them into her bag and a father and son stopped to help her. She thanked them warmly and the three of them straightened, immediately blocking his view of the small door across the street. He tilted his head slightly to the right, and the three of them dispersed, clearing his view; the doorway was empty. He didn't recognize any of the fellows that walked into the shop on the other side of the road so he propped his hands on the table and set his gaze across the room, eyes squinting at the board listing the many hot beverages. One of the waitresses, with her hair sleekly pulled back into a ponytail, noticed the direction of his gaze and promptly made her way to him with a bright smile on her face. She smoothed her hands down her black apron and pulled a pad and pencil out of the right pocket.

"Afternoon," she said and peered down at him with friendly eyes. "What'll it be?"

A bell tinkled in the background, signalling another arrival.

"Just a coffee, please. Black."

"What size?" she asked.

"Erm," he ran a hand through his hair and her eyebrows quirked slightly in recognition, noting the small scar. "Regular," he said quickly as he noticed her sudden interest. He unconsciously began to flatten his fringe over the culprit.

The waitress coloured slightly, turned and said, "Right. Be back in a bit."

Once she was gone, he sighed and sank back into the chair, bright eyes scanning the room as if in habit. Soft music played overhead and he hummed the familiar tune, drumming his fingers on the table in time with the beat. This was nice. His felt his shoulders relax almost a quarter of an inch and he nearly grinned. It had been a while since he'd had the time to really relax. Not that Harry Potter actually knew the meaning of relaxation. Even on a date or out on a night with his friends, his eyes would always be alert, his muscles tense and ready to spring and his ears careful to pick up any suspicious doings.

Ron often said that he would have to knock him out with a brick just so he could actually get some proper sleep. To which Harry would reply with a good natured, "Shut up. I sleep." And he did too, just not too heavily.

And with his wand holstered to his arm.

And a dagger under his pillow.

Just for good measure.

Though the latter he could have done without if not for the fact that Draco Malfoy had given to him. Now why would Harry Potter, the supposed adversary accept anything from Draco Malfoy, you ask? Well that was simple. Mr. Malfoy had saved his life, and it was _his _hand that drove _his _dagger through the Death Eater's neck.

The man had managed to over power Harry and had thrown him against a rather solid brick wall. Had it not been for Malfoy's quick thinking, Harry would have lost his life, and dying with a fully grown man pushed up against him on a brick wall was not quite the dignified death Harry had imagined for himself. Not that he was the one to spend his nights thinking up magnificent death scenarios in which he'd go out in blazing glory.

Still, being squished by a very heavy man was not a great way to go.

In short, Harry was grateful and Draco was smug.

"Thanks, I owe you," Harry had managed to wheeze as he pushed himself up off the dirt.

"Yeah? Well then you can start by pulling your knife out his body," he had said with his nose wrinkled in disgust.

"_My _knife?"

"You heard me."

And with those words the gift was passed and accepted in a not so conventional way, but no one was complaining.

Harry had given him a look then did the dirty work, grimacing. "Now I know why you never got into this field."

"Potter, I'm a _businessman._ I'm tired, I'm filthy, and my robes, which may I remind you cost more than your flat, are completely ruined. Now, let's find Weasley and get the hell out of here."

Harry held back a smirk as the memory faded. The station had now switched tunes to something even more upbeat. Harry's fingers went mad. Then he noted the disgruntled looking old man with a lazy eye glaring in his direction. Harry stopped his drumming and met the man's stare.

With gnarled fingers, the man grasped a steaming red mug in his shaking hands, took a long and thought sip, then nodded as if in greeting and went back to his paper.

_Strange_ Harry thought and decided to take a leaf out of the old man's book. He took the paper that sat on the seat across the table and opened it. The waitress came with his mug (it was green) and left. He turned the page, lifted the mug to his lips and took a sip.

Oh, that was nice.

He'd have to tell Ron about this place. The coffee was fantastic. He brought the gigantic mug to his lips once more, eyes darting across the page. The bell chimed. Senses open to his surroundings, he was fully aware of the new customer taking a seat at an empty table two tables across from him and to his left.

The waitress gracefully glided over to the table. "Hey there, back for more?"

Harry turned the page and faintly heard the newcomer answer, "Well you know that I just can't get through the week without at least one cup."

"A week? Some people come here everyday, dear."

"If only I had the time."

"Your usual?"

"Yes please, Rosie. Thank you."

The paper shuffled in his hand as he turned it over with a sigh. The news just wasn't as interesting without the pictures moving. He took another sip of the strong liquid and felt it slide down his throat with a pleasant warmth. It was almost as good as butterbeer. Almost.

Suddenly bored with the article before him, he let his eyes drift and land on the woman who seated two tables away from him and to his left. The waitress was back and she set a cool blue mug on the table.

"Here you are, love."

The Woman looked up at her and her features lit up in a bright smile.

Harry's mouth went dry.

"Thanks, Rosie," the Woman said still smiling. "You have no idea how much I need this right now."

"My pleasure, darling. You're later than usual, you know. I was expecting you to be here at least an half past three."

The Woman let out a heavy sigh in response then said, "Yeah, I had some extra things to do before the conference."

"Did a little shopping too, I see," Rosie pointed out and the Woman glanced at the gigantic bag that sat beside her on the seat. That smile lit her face up once more and Harry stared, not blinking.

"Oh, that. I just got it about oh, five, ten minutes ago actually. It's for my friend's son. He's turning eleven this Saturday."

"Let me guess, those are books," Rosie said with a wry smile.

The Woman let out a laugh in answer and Harry's lips twitched in a small grin at the sound.

"Why, however did you know?"

Rosie winked before heading over to another table and answered, "Magic."

This was met by an incredulous arch of an elegant eyebrow, but Rosie just laughed and was gone. The Woman only smiled to herself, shook her head and drew her attention to her papers once more. It was then that Harry recognized where he had seen her before. She was the woman from earlier who had stood outside and blocked his view. Why he had never noticed her then was beyond him. No matter. He noticed her now and my, did he like what he noticed.

On an average day, his eyes would've passed right over the Woman. She didn't look to be his type, but this time lady fate had decided to pull away the curtain unveiling a smile. It lit her plain features, which after a second and a third glance, he found to his surprise, weren't so plain. Her hair, though bushy, had a mesmerizing wave to it and it flowed down past her shoulders in a mess of curls. Her eyes though plain brown, sparked and shone when that smile curved her lips.

He wondered what she was reading. He wondered what her name was.

Propping an elbow on the table, Harry brought his mug to his lips and with his other hand he idly turned the page of his newspaper. He did all this without taking his smouldering eyes off the Woman. She was now muttering to herself as she crossed out something and scribbled something else. He watched her hand dance across the sheet, then drop the pen and pick up the large blue mug.

She leaned back with a faint look of satisfaction on her features as her eyes scanned the sheet. Strands of hair fell in her eyes and she nonchalantly pushed it back, all her focus directed onto the page. He watched her fingers tap gently along the side of the cup in beat with the music playing overhead and he wondered if she even noticed her actions.

Harry continued to watch intrigued by this strange Woman who seemed to have materialized out of thin air and was shaped and moulded just for him.

The bell chimed, striking through the music and from the corner of his eye, he spotted a head of shocking red. Harry spared one last glance at the Woman who was once again attacking the sheet with her pen, before tearing his eyes away and raising them to meet his friend who had a sheepish grin on his face.

"Saw you in here through the window. Sorry I'm late," he said taking a seat across from him.

Harry nodded and shrugged; Eyes, with a mind of their own, shifting to look at the Woman once more.

"So," Ron sighed and rubbed his hand together as if agitated or nervous. "you wanna go?"

"Erm," Harry still had his eyes on her. "Why don't you grab a drink first? They're not bad."

Ron glanced out the window at the shop across the street then looked down at Harry's cup. "Looks like I could take a swim in that."

"Yeah, the mugs are big but the coffee's great."

"Coffee?" Ron said dubiously, but Harry had already flagged down the waitress and ordered for him.

When Rosie placed the red mug on the table, Ron said his thanks and she bobbed her head and grinned at him fleetingly, her eyes blinking furiously in recognition. It was the hair. Ron liked to think it was his dashing good looks and irresistible charm. All that aside, Rosie left the table rather flustered at having been so close to both Ron Weasley and Harry Potter.

Ron felt a small twinge of childish satisfaction which he quickly brushed away with an inward laugh. It was weird being recognized in a Muggle café. His eyes though continued to follow Rosie's path along the tables for a moment. "Now she's cute," he pointed out.

"She's also married," Harry said with a wry grin.

Ron glanced once more at the waitress with a furrowed brow, wondering how in the world he could have missed such a small detail. Sure enough, as she brought a hand up to reach for a cup he noticed the simple gold band that adorned her finger. He shook his head with a sigh, slightly disappointed with himself. He was getting rusty. He turned back to Harry.

"Yeah, but let's say she wasn't. Now there's a woman that you should go out with. Nice, friendly, hasn't got less brain cells than a gold fish."

Harry flushed and looked slightly annoyed. "Hey, they're not stupid."

Ron gave him a look. "Harry. Your last date didn't even know how to start a car," he said almost laughingly.

Harry scowled into his mug. "Well, she, erm, didn't need to learn."

"But she could've at least had the decency to observe. Or, hang it all, Harry! You stick the sodding key into the sodding hole. If she could shag, she could start a car."

Harry choked on his coffee and looked at his friend with laughter in his eyes. Soon the laughter tumbled from his lips and his shoulders shook in mirth.

"What?"

"You're a dick."

"Truth hurts, mate."

Harry shook his head as and took in a deep breath as the laughter left him. The smile still lingered on the corners of his mouth and he looked out the window. Rain started coming down; first in a light drizzle then falling heavily, beating against the concrete.

Harry nodded and his face grew somber as he watched the torrent of rain beat against the glass. A child dashed from outside of a shop and into an awaiting car, hands over his head. A teenager walked nonchalantly, hands in his pockets down the sidewalk; the rain beat against his face. A business woman, umbrella in hand, passed him by glancing at her watch every few seconds.

"It's easier that way," Harry suddenly said; his eyes stubborn and hard.

Ron looked at him in pity. "No, mate. Doing that's not gonna make anything easier."

"Ron, you of all people know how dangerous it is to have any connection with me."

Ron nodded. Oh, he knew all too well of Harry's fear. Yes, fear, because that's what it was. Harry was afraid of having any connection with any member of the opposite sex. He was even slightly hesitant to make any friends with any fellow wizards apart from the ones he grew up with. Having any relation with Harry, be it intimate or friendly, put that person in danger. Which explained the reason for his small close knit of friends from Hogwarts, and why he only went out with women who didn't expect anything more than a mindless, heartless shag. No strings attached.

It was safer that way; safer for the woman if she wasn't involved emotionally. If there weren't any ties then there wouldn't be that one more needless life lost because of him. No one would be hurt. Did it matter that this way of living took apart his sanity with each woman he took to his bed? No. Why should it? After all he was Harry the great sodding Potter. Hero of all. The boy who lived and continued to live, albeit a lonely life, but as long as those he did care about and their families were safe and happy then so was he. In Ginny's opinion, Harry was a sad man who needed a proper woman. In Ron's opinion, Harry was an idiot. Period.

"You're mad. You can't shut out women forever, and when I say women I don't mean the all breasts, no brains bit. No no, listen. One day you're gonna meet someone and you're gonna freeze and you're gonna think, 'Fuck. That's the one for me.'"

Harry's eyes naturally drifted to the Woman sitting two tables away from him and to his left. She brought her blue mug to her lips. Harry swallowed.

Ron noticed his friend's attention focused on a spot behind him, and he turned then looked back at him with a cheeky grin.

"If you hold her, she's not gonna disappear."

Harry's eyes darted back to him in surprise and he tried to hide his slight embarrassment behind his mug.

"Piss off," he said. "I don't even know her."

Ron turned to look over his shoulder once more and the two of them noticed Rosie, who had walked over to the Woman's table. She said something and the Woman laughed in answer.

"Looks like our waitress knows her though."

Rosie walked away and Harry watched as the woman went back to her reading. Ron rubbed the rim of his mug then looked at him thoughtfully.

"Why don't you go over to them, use the old Harry Potter charm and maybe get a name."

Harry shot him a sour look. "Don't you have a ring to buy?"

"You're right. And you're lucky that I'm a good boyfriend, or I would've gone and asked for her name myself."

Harry shook his head in disbelief as he stood and dug into his pocket for change.

"You're just worried that Luna will propose before you do."

Ron grinned and pulled out some coins from his pocket. After double checking that they were indeed Muggle currency, he tossed them onto the table saying, "Can't let her beat me to it now, can I?"

Harry nodded his farewell to the waitress as she passed them and Ron started talking to him about the ring he had seen earlier last week at the shop. Harry nodded, half listening. He glanced at the Woman as they passed by her table; half hoping that she would look up at him as he passed by.

Her eyes remained glued to the pages she had on her desk, her lips mumbling the words scrawled on the paper.

Feeling slightly put out, Harry followed Ron out the door and onto the street.

"This way," Ron nearly shouted over the storm and Harry motioned for him to go on. Ducking his head under the pouring rain, Harry followed Ron down the street.

* * *

In the days that followed Harry continued to haunt the café; eyes looking at the book in his grasp, but not really focused on the words that blurred on the page.

3:32

He found that she would stop by every Wednesday at 3:32pm; always taking the same seat; always with a book clasped in her delicate hands or clutching a folder with sheets of paper.

She would order a coffee. Decafe. Large. He'd watch intently as she'd take the gigantic mug in her hands and bring it up to her lips, taking a careful sip of the steaming liquid.

And he'd wonder: were her lips as soft as they looked? Was her kiss a delicate feather light touch that seared and marked another as her own?

His gaze would drift and linger on her slender fingers, clasping the mug gently in her hands and he could almost feel them running through and burying themselves deep into his hair; clutching at his robes, nails grazing across his skin.

He took a shaking breath and brought his mug to his lips taking a hearty swallow. The scalding liquid burned a path down his throat making him choke and cough, and all heated thoughts became wisps of smoke and ash as he cleared his throat. His mind told him to push the mug away, get up and walk out of the café, and put as much distance between him and temptation. His legs thought otherwise. So he did the only thing any man would do in such a situation. He ordered another coffee.

"Erm, excuse me, miss?"

"Anything you want, sir?"

"Er, yeah. Can I have another coffee please?"

"Sure thing. Same order?"

He opened his mouth to agree but something inside him felt rather daring at the moment and his eyes darted to the vision sitting two tables away from him and to his left. She was bringing the mug to her lips, her full attention on the book perched on the table.

"No, give me what she's drinking."

The waitress took a moment to take in his strange request and glanced at the Woman who was now scribbling furiously in her book, lips lingering on the brim of her mug.

"Alright," and with eyes full of laughter, she nodded and was gone.

Now why, on earth did he do that?

He smiled, feeling somewhat pleased with himself and yet not knowing why. He looked down at his hands that sat on his thighs then brought them up to sit on the table. Okay, now what? He looked at the book he had pushed off to the side. Well, that might certainly help in busying his hands.

He had just flipped the book open to a random page when Rosie came with his order steaming in a deep green mug. "Here you go," she said with a knowing smile. "It may be a mite too sweet for your taste, though."

"I think I can handle it," he said offhandedly and took a sip.

His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

Wow that was sweet. He managed to swallow the shocking mixture and grinned up at her.

"Yeah," he managed to breath. "This isn't too bad."

He took another taste, a small one this time and nearly gagged. He coughed into his hand.

Rosie let out an amused laugh. "Tell you what, you finish that, and I'll get you your regular." "

Yes, m'am," he said raising his cup to her.

"Oh, none of that. You're here often enough to loose the formalities. Call me Rosie. I'll be back with your coffee."

"Cheers, Rosie."

When she was gone, Harry just stared at the mug on the table. It sat there and mocked him.

He licked his lips as he prepared himself for another deadly onslaught to his taste buds and he brought the cup to his lips. He swallowed. Then he blanched and swallowed some more. There was a tinkle of laughter that came from the table two tables away from him and to his left. He looked up and the Woman was staring at whatever she was reading. Her shoulders shook as her silent laughter overwhelmed her.

_Must be some funny stuff. _He thought as he gripped the cup tightly in his hands and brought it to his nearly trembling lips.

This was what she drank every time she came here.

He took a swallow.

This was what she tasted like.

He sipped some more.

Sweet.

Mind-blowing,

(sip)

balls-twisting,

(swallow)

tongue shriveling sweet.

He wanted more. So he watched her, and he drank her, and he took his fill until he was brimming with her sweetness. Overflowing with her taste, and bursting with the aching need to touch her. To talk to her; hear her voice; have her eyes settled on him; to know her name.

His ears noted sharp clicking sound of approaching footsteps and he casually lowered his eyes to his book.

"Wow, I guess you did need a bit of a change," Rosie said eyeing his now empty cup.

"I was just thirsty."

"Well, I hope you're still thirsty because I've got your usual right here." And she set another mug on the table.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes itching to glance at the Woman whose taste still lingered in his mouth. Lord, he needed to get out of there. He was going mad.

"Yeah, thanks but, erm, you don't mind if I can take that to go?"

"Oh, of course not, dear. I'll be back in a bit."

Harry scrubbed a hand over his face and waited for Rosie to return. He didn't dare look at the Woman again. He had to stop coming here. It wasn't good for him, or her.

Within minutes Rosie was at his side once more and he thanked her, left her a tip, and dashed out the door without sparing a glance at the Woman who was clearly oblivious to his existence.

Harry didn't know if he should be happy or hurt.


	2. Two

Disclaimer: I have no claim on anything, save for Rosie, the bookshop dude and the annoyed old guy. The professor is based on an actual scary man I currently have the misfortune of meeting.

Perspectives from the Past is an actual book, though I made up the author Erika Erikson. If someone by that name however does exist, then well, I don't own that person either. The little piece below is part of ALACANDRE's speech to PRIDAMANT in the play _The Illusion. _Good stuff. The whole piece of Alacandre's little monologue will continue in the final two chapters of this story. I just wanted to divide the small monologue according to the content in the chapters.

Author's Notes: A great big thank you to everyone for the wonderful feedback. You're all amazing.

I'm going into second year, so I don't have the faintest idea of how an intermediate class would go about. I do have a fear of math and science though so at least in that aspect I can write truthfully. I was however once dragged into a friend of mine's compsci 250 (at least I think it was compsci) which drove me to the conclusion that algorithms suck. And a big ol "Quiet you" to those who want to prove me otherwise. But enough of this babble. Enjoy, and let me know what you think.

* * *

_What in this world is real and not seeming?_

_Love, which seems the realest thing, is really nothing at all;_

_A simple gray rock is a thousand times more tangible than love is;_

_And the earth is such a rock, and love only a breeze_

_that dreams over its surface, weightless and traceless._

_And yet love's more mineral, more dense, more veined with gold _

_and corrupted with lead, _

_more bitter and more weighty than the earth's profoundest matter._

_Love is a sea of desire stretched between shores -- only the shores are real,_

_but how much more compelling is the sea…_

-excerpt taken from _Pierre Corneille's **The Illusion, **_(Adapted by: _Tony Kushner_)

* * *

"That'll be 25.22, son."

Harry dug into his wallet, pulled out the notes and handed them to the cashier.

"It's a good book, this one," the cashier, a short, balding man with beady eyes that had something of a hint of Dumbledore's twinkle said to Harry; his leathery face wrinkled as his lips cracked into a smile. He hefted the heavy maroon tomb entitled _Perspectives from the Past _and delicately placed it in the bag with the other books.

"Yeah, so I've heard," Harry answered accepting the change in the man's outstretched hand.

"You go to the university?" the man asked, eyes squinting at the receipt as it sluggishly tumbled from the machine.

Harry shook his head. "No I- that one's just for me and the others are presents."

The man nodded thoughtfully and tore at the receipt and gave it to Harry. "Light reading, eh? Good for you, son. Business has been slow the past century, what with those blasted computer games coming out."

Harry chuckled and thanked him with a nod, taking the receipt and shoving it into his bag.

"You take care now and enjoy Perspectives. As I said, good book, that."

Harry nodded and raised his hand in farewell. Then passing rows upon rows of shelves bursting with dusty books, he pushed open the doors, stuffed a hand in his pocket and looked across the road. The heavy rain beat against his upturned face and muddled his vision. In big bold letters the words NICE DREAM filled his sight. His eyes lingered on the window and if he squinted just right, he could make out a familiar head of bushy hair.

Someone pushed past him, knocking into his shoulder and immediately bringing him back to his senses. He was wet. The wind was picking up and if he didn't get inside somewhere soon he would eventually be wet and cold.

He shook his head and took a step to the left, making to leave for the nearest Apparation Centre. A car shot by on the road, nearly dashing him with filthy rain water and Harry jerked to the side, swearing heavily.

"Wonderful," he muttered, wishing he could use a bit of water repelling magic, but there were too many muggles around and someone would sure notice that a very dry man without an umbrella was a very strange thing.

NICE DREAM glared back at him and his shoulders sagged in defeat. Coffee. That's what he needed. Hot, soothing coffee. Gripping his bag laden with three books (including Erika Erikson's _Perspectives from the Past), _he gritted his teeth and looked up and down the road, wary of other mad muggle drivers spraying deadly muddied rain water in their wake, before trotting across the street.

He pulled open the door and the bell chimed announcing his arrival. He made his way to his usual table by the window, which just so happened to involve him passing by her table, but he was here for coffee and nothing more. So naturally it was only because he was drenched and chilled to the bone from the rain that he suddenly had a coughing fit, and it was pure coincidence that his sudden and most certainly unintentional attack took him just as he walked by her table.

She didn't notice.

Plopping his bag on the bench, he suddenly became aware that his jacket was sopping and drenched. So he of course just had to shrug it off and shake the water out, making much of a fuss and plenty of noise.

She didn't look up.

He let out another cough and just for good measure, cleared his throat loudly.

She turned the page of her book, completely entranced.

Then the same old man he had seen on the first day looked up from his paper and eyed him in annoyance. Harry coloured slightly and sat down with a small sigh. The old man huffed and brought his attention back to his paper leaving Harry to stare sullenly at his table.

Slightly disappointed, he ordered a coffee.

Harry stared out the window for a moment then rummaged through his bag and pulled out the heavy maroon book and laid it on the table. He eyed the gold letters etched across the hard cover and became so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice Rosie click her way to him and set his neon green mug on the smooth surface.

"Erika Erikson, huh?" she said and Harry looked up at her.

"Yeah."

"New book?"

"Just got it today. That's why I'm here."

Rosie nodded and placed a hand on her hip as she inspected the plain cover. "You're the second person that I've seen who's crazy enough to get that."

Harry leaned back in his seat, resting his eyes on the woman standing before him. So she knew. Big deal.

"What made you buy it?" she asked with a knowing smile.

Harry shrugged and refused to look at the Woman seated two tables away from him and to his left. "Heard some good stuff about it and I was curious."

"Hmm," she answered. "Well, enjoy the drink. The book as well," and she left.

Harry grunted and drank his coffee. The Woman was marking another page in her book.

* * *

The rain had stopped. Harry fixed his gaze outside the window. The sun was just starting to peak from behind the clouds, warming the wet pavement. Bright rays fell across the windows of the shops, causing the droplets that streaked the glass to glisten and shine. Then he heard a sound of a chair scraping across the floor and he looked up

. The woman was standing and she took her maroon book. The gold letters of the word _Perspectives _lingered before his eyes before the book disappeared into her bag. Delving through her purse, she pulled out some coins and placed them on the table. Then with a farewell to Rosie she headed out the door, the bell chimed at her back.

Harry looked out the window and watched as she passed by and stepped onto the curb. She scanned the road before crossing and she adjusted the strap of her black satchel across her shoulder.

Harry didn't know why, but suddenly he found himself standing, tossing some notes on the table and heading out the door. Waiting for the road to clear, he then crossed the street and scanned the crowd of people on the sidewalk. He immediately spotted her and he quickened his step only to slow down when she was a safe distance away.

He kept at a steady pace always bringing himself closer to her yet not too close that she would notice, and with his hands in his pockets he allowed his gaze to drift downward and fall on her hips that gently swayed in a childish innocence with each step. He wondered if she even noticed her actions, for her eyes were once again buried in a sheet of paper she held in her delicate hands.

Harry swallowed.

If only he could just reach out, encircle her waist and pull her back against him. Then he could lean in close and bury his nose in her hair.

He wondered what she smelled like.

Was her scent the gentle rose? Was it the tickling fruit? Sweet vanilla? Or did she have a scent of her own; an intoxicating subtle aroma that gently washed over him making him gasp and tremble.

He licked lips that had gone dry and wished he had brought his coffee with him.

Harry followed her as far as the bus stop and took a seat at the bench behind her. _Right, I'll leave as soon as the bus comes._

She stood, reading. Her lips moved with each word that flowed from the page.

"Excuse me?" a voice sounded, forcing Harry to break his gaze. He turned to find a girl who looked to be about fifteen or sixteen, eyeing him with interest. "You don't happen to have the time do you? I lost my watch," she said sheepishly.

Harry glanced at the watch on his wrist and said, "It's 1:32."

She thanked him and looked as if she was about to say something more. Thankfully the bus arrived and Harry shot to his feet, giving her a fleeting smile and nearly dashing onto the bus. _Lovely. _He thought with a frown as he paid his fare.

He spotted the Woman already seated with one empty chair beside her.

_Well. As long as I'm here… _

Harry took a seat beside her and placed his hands on his knees to prevent himself from fidgeting. He focused his gaze on the dirt ridden floor of the vehicle and he contemplated a conversation with her. If there was ever a time, now was a good one. But what would he say? "Hi I'm Harry," would be a nice start. He pictured her giving him a blank stare before turning back to her papers in silence.

Come on, think of something.

Harry was fully aware that he may not have another chance so he lifted his head, turned to her and opened his mouth to speak. Then his throat closed up and he froze. She looked up from her papers to look up at him, but he had already jerked his head back to the floor. _Idiot. _He thought. He brought a hand to fumble with the handle of the bag and the bus stopped at a red light.

Now that certainly didn't go well at all.

_A real winner, you are. Brilliant. A real ladies' man._

He had nothing interesting to say anyway so he only stared sullenly at the contents in his bag, wondering which stop he should get off at.

The Woman then let out a sigh and sidled through the contents of her bag, stuffing her papers in and pulling out a notebook. Curious, Harry looked at its contents and his head spun. He furrowed his brow in confusion. The page was covered with complicated equations and diagrams. Well. He certainly knew that he was sure to be a complete bore to her. A small surge of something filled him and his lips curved slightly in amusement. All breasts and no brains, indeed. Ron would be proud.

A few stops later the Woman stood, shoved the book back in her bag, and walked off the bus. The struggle took only a moment for him._ Should I stay or should I go? _

Harry stepped lightly onto the still wet cement of the sidewalk.

He followed her across the freshly cut grass, through a pathway littered with flyers scattered on the poles, and into a building where she went up three flights of stairs and through orange double doors. Harry paused before the doors wondering if this was the point where he should stop.

_Ah, what the hell. _

He pushed through the doors and entered the lecture hall. She was sitting in the front row and already had her notebook out. Then Harry dared to look at the equations on the board and immediately regretted stepping into the room.

An old man sporting a bright yellow sweater and tweed pants strode into the room with vigour and tossed his folder onto the table at a quick flick of his wrist. With beady eyes, the man glared at the few students that just entered and Harry quickly took a seat farther up and away from his gaze. He made sure that his seat had a clear sight of the Woman. She was now sitting upright and alert, pencil in hand.

The next hour was a flurry of activity with the professor jotting down equations on the board and scratching diagrams painful to the eye. All the while hands, some tentative and some eager, shot into the air. Harry glanced around him nervously as he noted the students scribbling furiously. Some chewed pens and pencils in their hands and others nodded at whatever the professor, bordering on god, said.

Every now and then a question would be thrown in. Some were good and some were, well, not so good. Harry knew which ones that failed to shine in the professor's eyes for the old man would suddenly grow red in the face, his dark eyes would narrow making them seem even smaller and he would roar, "BRIGHT YOUNG DOCTORS ASK BRIGHT QUESTIONS!" To which Harry would respond with a good natured jerk of the shoulders in surprise. Some students winced, while others looked smugly at the offending questioner. Harry's girl would then raise her hand and offer some bright input.

"Excellent," the professor said gruffly. He whirled his plump frame to the board and began to madly erase his work, creating a light smoke of chalk to dust his thick moustache. "Miss Granger has once again deduced that when taking into consideration the…"

Harry decided to tune the man out and instead smiled with satisfaction at the Woman who sat in her seat looking rather pleased. So she did have a name. Granger. Her intelligence impressed him. He was sure that she was by far the most intelligent woman in this entire class. The entire school even. Sure he was biased, but he was proud of her just the same. Now he just needed to know her first name.

The professor barked at another student who cowered under his beady gaze and Harry decided to slip out the back. He had pushed open the door already running through his head what he would say to her when he saw her again. Then he spotted Ron sitting on the ledge by the wall, arms folded over his chest. One eye opened, revealing the bright blue of his iris and a slow, lazy smile lit his face.

"About time you came out," said Ron. He stood and stretched, not bothering to swallow the loud yawn. "Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked.

Harry headed to the stairs. "Immensely."

Ron followed him and their plodding footsteps echoed in the empty stairwell.

"Why didn't you just follow me in?" said Harry.

"I almost did," said Ron and he eyed the bag Harry was holding. "Then I heard some rubbish about bright doctors asking questions. Nutters."

Harry grinned. "You hungry?"

"Always."

They stepped out into the bright sunshine and paused. Harry looked around. "I think I noticed a restaurant here somewhere."

"Why don't we just head over to Diagon Alley? Oh right, that would take you away from your mystery woman of the bushy hair that you oh so love to stalk."

Harry turned to scowl at him. "I'm not stalking her."

Ron raised a dubious brow.

"Oh alright. Fine. I'm stalking her."

It sounded weird when he said it aloud and he felt disgusted with himself. _She's driving me insane. _

"Great. Now that you've embraced it, we can move on." Ron stopped a stranger and asked where the nearest restaurant was. Pointed in the right direction, they continued walking.

"Her hair isn't bushy. It's curly," Harry suddenly said in defence.

Ron's lips twitched in hilarity. "Curly in a bushy sorta way?"

Harry tried to wrestle his smile but to no avail.

They stepped into the restaurant and order their food. Once seated, with a plate before him, Ron bit into his sandwich with relish. He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. "Hmm, not bad." He drank deeply then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "So," he said popping a fry in his mouth. "Have you got her name yet?"

Harry swallowed his share and said, "It's Granger."

Ron blinked and took another gulp of his drink. "Granger, eh? Dunno about you mate, but that's the strangest first name I've ever heard." Ron ignored his friend's dark look. "Tell me," he said taking another bite of his sandwich. "Were her parents on drugs?"

"No you idiot, Granger is her last name."

Ron's sandwich paused in its ascent to his mouth.

"Ah. So you haven't talked to her then."

Harry muttered a 'No' before taking a deep pull from his bottle.


	3. Three

A/N: I really could have just updated this much earlier, but I thought that I needed to add more. It seemed unfinished. So I went at it today and figured that I could very well place what was added into another chapter. So, damnit. Sorry for the pointless wait everyone and I hope that you all don't think that this chapter is going off or pointless. Let me know what you think.

* * *

Legs. These were the first things that Stanley Tolski saw when opened his eyes. At first they looked to be two pale blurry columns spotted with black. Then he placed his thick purple glasses on and the columns focused allowing Stanley to make out that the black spotty things were in fact fishnet stockings. The fishnet stocking clad pair of legs was attached to rather expensive looking pumps; one tapping impatiently on the smooth surface of the linoleum floor.

His eyes traveled up the length of the legs, along the black dress that clung to her curves like a second skin. They rose up past the one hand resting on a hip, the generous cleavage just peaking from the neckline, up past the string of pearls resting on a delicate neck, the pouting lips that pursed in impatience, up the pert nose, past the earrings and to the hazel eyes that peered down at him with a bored look.

Stanley glanced down the hall to see if his partner was back from the loo yet. Nope. Stanley held back a sigh and leaned into his seat. He really did not want to deal with another admirer of a staff member. He folded his hands and rested them on his belly then said in his most generous tone, "Yes?"

After five years of employment Stanley already knew the words she was going to say. He could have mouthed them along with her.

"I'm here to see Harry."

She said his name with such familiarity that could have convinced even the coldest of prison guards, but Stanley wasn't known as 'the Tank' for nothing.

The red light of the intercom flickered. Stanley righted himself in his seat and, as if by habit, he adjusted the purple and white argyle vest over his button down shirt. He flashed her a shocking white smile and raised a finger motioning her to wait for a moment.

"Tolski here," he said into the headset. He hoped the message was a long one.

The woman folded her arms over her chest and heaved a loud sigh.

"Right, I'm on it."

He flicked his wand over a set of files and brought his attention back to the woman.

"Do you have a pass?" he asked.

The woman only looked at him as if he was stupid. "No. Of course I don't. Harry knows me. He'll see me."

Lovely she was one of _those_ women. Stanley refrained from clenching his jaw in annoyance and tried to will his partner back. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but no one is allowed within the complex without a pass card."

The woman looked appalled. "Listen, I'll only be a moment. I just want to let him know that I'm in town for a bit."

"Well then you can send him an owl."

"I don't have an owl with me. I'm only visiting for the week. Can't you just make an exception?"

Stanley pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a finger. "Sorry. Those are my orders. Can't let you in without a pass. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some work to do."

The woman looked haughtily at him and bit her lip. Then she leaned on the counter exposing the delectable flesh of her bosom. Stanley swallowed a yawn and glanced at his wand scanning the files.

"All I'm asking-"

"Sorry miss, but can you please take a step back?"

The woman gave a little harrumph but did as she was told, and Stanley heaved the heavy pile of files onto the counter, ready for Lou the house elf to pick them up.

"Is it too much to ask if you could at least let him know I'm here?" she said with a sugary smile.

Stanley looked up at her and straightened his glasses with a frown. Approaching footsteps reached his ears. _Finally. _

Patricia Nguyen walked brusquely to their post. "Problem?" she asked him; she noted Stanley's annoyance with a hint of amusement in her brown eyes.

Stanley stood from his chair pulling down the edges of his vest, and made to head to the loo. "Just ring her in," he muttered under his breath then turned to the woman at the counter. "My partner will notify Mr. Potter, but if he declines I'm afraid you'll have to leave."

"Of course."

* * *

"You're in here too much."

"Well, it's called work, Dean."

Dean looked over his shoulder at his friend who was seated at his desk, parchment and files scattered on the counter. He was scribbling madly, his quill drilling across the parchment pausing every now and then to dip into the ink bottle or to check something or other in more sheets of parchment. Dean turned back to the pictures and articles of Dark Wizards that filled one wall of the room. He strolled over to one of the maps of one man's whereabouts.

"You work too much," he said.

"I try," said Harry noting Dean peering into the foe glass by the door. "There's a quaffle by the fireplace over there if you're bored."

"I'm not a child, Harry," Dean said as he strolled over to the fireplace, and picked up the quaffle that rested on one of the armchairs. He lightly tossed it back and forth, and noticed the pictures of friends tacked on the wall by the fireplace.

"Hey, this was taken at Krum's match," Dean said, grinning at the photo of Harry, Ron, Dean, Neville and Seamus. Ron pointing at the spec of Krum in the sky and Seamus throwing the camera a double thumbs up.

Harry glanced up and chuckled. "Yeah, that was."

Dean threw himself on one armchair and began to bounce the quaffle against a filing cabinet sitting by the back wall. "So," said Dean as he threw the quaffle against the cabinet. It bounced off the corner and flew in Harry's direction.

"Yeah," Harry said, immediately raising his left hand to deftly catch it without taking his gaze off the parchment. His elbow rested on the desk, quaffle still in hand and he paused for a moment, reading what he had written, before looking up to toss it back to Dean.

"I'm bored," Dean said.

"Ron will be here soon."

"Nev coming?"

Harry nodded. "He'll be here in a bit. Got called over to Mungo's for a check up or something."

"Right."

Then without so much as a knock, Ron threw open the door and strolled in. "God, I hate paper work," he said glancing at Harry.

"Part of the job," Harry said.

"He works too much," Dean repeated.

Harry, eyes on his parchment, crumpled up an empty sheet and threw it at Dean, who caught it with a swish of his wand and flicked it in the bin saying, "You just killed a tree. You bastard."

"Right, well I'm starving. Where's Neville?" said Ron who was seated in the second armchair.

"On his way," said Dean.

"Major Potter?" a face in the flames called.

"Yes, Humbert?"

"A representative of Malfoy Enterprises wants to speak with you." Harry sighed. "Can you take a message?"

"He says it's important, Major."

"Wonderful," he muttered as he capped his ink bottle and pushed aside the parchment.

"Right, I'm on my way."

"What about lunch?" Dean asked.

"This won't take long. Malfoy probably wants to talk to me about family security."

"That's not our department," said Ron.

"Yeah well, tell that to the git. He's only looking out for his family though and Ginny is pregnant. Only trusts me with this for some reason. Just wait for Neville. I'll be back in a bit." And he shut the door behind him.

Ron was silent for a moment. Then he walked to the bay windows and gazed outside.

There were times when he could accept that Ginny was married to the man, and then there were moments when he'd just force himself to forget. This wasn't one of those moments.

Something blunt hit him in the back of the head.

Hard.

"Ow," Ron muttered and rubbed the back of his head.

"Sorry," Dean called from the chair.

Ron stooped to pick up the quaffle now sitting on Harry's desk. He tossed it in the air and caught it.

"Erm, you mind passing it here then?"

Ron threw it.

"You're rubbish at that, you know."

"S'why I never tried out for the team."

"And yet you coach it."

Dean shrugged. "Madam Hooch retired. McGonagall was desperate. Besides, I was rubbish at teaching Astronomy."

"Dunno why she even hired you."

"I'm desirable?"

"Desperate, more like."

"Thanks," Dean said dryly. Ron rummaged through Harry's drawers saying, "Now I know he keeps it in here somewhere." "Should you really be doing that?" Ron shrugged. "He'd understand. Aha! Here it is." He raised a chess set triumphantly in his hands and grinned.

Dean shook his head and stood from the chair saying, "Oh no, you're not going to coerce me into playing that."

"One game."

"No."

Ron looked pointedly at him. "Do you have anything better to do?"

Dean scowled. "Give it here."

"Brilliant."

Two matches (Dean lost both. Fantastically.) and some quaffle tossing later, there was a voice from the fire, ("Dr. Longbottom is here") and a tentative rap on the door. Ron opened it.

"Back from a long morning's work at Herbology, I see. Shut the door behind you, will you?"

"Why'd you have to go to Mungo's?" Dean asked, taking a spin in Harry's chair.

"They wanted me to look at a fern a patient received."

"Was it dodgy?" Ron asked, not managing to hold back a grin.

"Very," Neville said. He walked to the window and looked out. "Where's Harry?"

"Mooching with Malfoy," Dean said, now floating around the room on Harry's now charmed chair.

Neville blinked and watched Dean meander his way from one wall to the next. "Er, okay."

Ron was seated on the floor, setting up the chess board. "Hey, Neville! Wanna play?"

"No, Nev! Don't give in!"

"Sure," Neville said seating himself on the floor across from Ron.

Dean shook his head and floated back down to the ground.

"And I've lost him."

* * *

"Head office."

"Yes, there is a Miss…" Patricia looked pointedly at the woman in the black dress and fishnets.

"Allison," the woman said.

"Miss Allison here to see Mr. Potter."

"Does she have a pass card?"

"No."

"One moment."

Patricia looked up at the woman with a smile and nodded at the house-elf who hefted the files into its arms. Stanley was making his way back to their post, hands in his pockets.

"Can I see him now?"

"Just one moment, Miss Allison," Patricia said with a forced smile. Stanley hid his own grin and took a seat, placing his headset on and holstering his wand.

* * *

It took only moments and a few swift moves for Ron to take Neville's king and for Neville to drift over to Harry's bookshelf. Then Justin came in and Ron was called out on some urgent message. Now the three them were in their respected places, idly talking and laughing, waiting for the other two to return.

A voice from the fire drew Justin's attention.

"Major?"

"Erm, no it's me Miranda. Harry's stepped out for a bit. Urgent business with Malfoy," he said to the plump face that floated in the flames.

"Of course, sir. There is a Miss Allison here to speak with the Major."

Neville jerked his head at the name and Dean nearly dropped the quaffle; his hands fumbled to catch it as it slipped from his grasp.

"Does she have a pass card?" Justin asked, scratching his chin.

"No, but Stan and Pat say that the woman is convinced the Major will see her."

Justin glanced at Dean who made quick gestures stating not to waste time and bring her in. Neville looked frightened at the aspect.

"Should I have Miss Allison leave a message?"

Dean shook his head furiously. Neville nodded.

"No no. Have her come in. We'll keep an eye on her until Harry gets back," said Justin.

Dean tossed the quaffle in the air in celebration and Neville hung his head.

"Right, sir." Then the head disappeared.

"Why did you do that? Why?" Neville said.

"I just want to know what she wants," Justin said folding his arms. "and besides, if I had said no then Harry would get her message anyway. Might as well have her pass it on in person."

"You just want to see if she looks exactly like the stories say she does," Dean said and Justin grinned, a cheeky grin. "That too," he said.

"As do I," said Dean.

"You're both stupid. Bringing Harry's ex in here out of curiosity is just going to make things worse."

"Neville. This isn't just one of Harry's flings. This is The Allison. The woman that managed to hang on for longer than a week. The on again, off again woman. She's the one he keeps going back to and I sure as hell want to know why."

"And what if Harry comes back while you guys gawk at her? What do you plan on doing then? We can't just bar Harry from his own office"

"Look, all we're doing is taking a message from her in person. Harry's not going to be here while she is because Malfoy's going to take ages, so just relax"

"A Miss Allison is at the door," a voice said from the fire.

Neville groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. Justin only tossed him an annoyed look and ran a hand through his hair, but before he could tell the voice to bring her in, the door burst open and in walked Ron very red in the face.

"Could someone please tell me why Allison bloody Wyles is standing right outside the bleeding door?"

"She wants to speak with Harry."

"Really, Justin? And here I thought she wanted a spot of tea."

"Ron-"

"Who let her in." Ron said in a dangerous voice.

Two fingers pointed at a nervous looking Justin sitting in Harry's chair.

Ron pulled out his wand, pointed it at the door with a Silencio and in three strides he was at Harry's desk. Bracing his hands on the surface he shouted, "WHAT THE BLEEDING HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!"

Neville jumped.

"ARE YOU DAFT!" Ron continued.

"I just wanted to see the woman who-"

"THAT WOMAN IS A _COW! _AND IF YOU'D JUST TAKE YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR BLEEDING ARSE YOU'D SEE WHAT A THICK HEADED IDIOT YOU'RE BEING!"

Justin shot to his feet and walked around the desk to stand before his friend. He hardly came up to Ron's shoulders, but managed still looked just as angry.

"Hang on now, then! You may order me around in the field, but we're off duty and I'm not-"

Ron threw his hands in the air in frustration. "Oh, sod duty you wanker! You're supposed to be his friend, not some bloody child pressed up against some bloody window gawking like an idiot! You know how much he cares about his sodding privacy!"

"Well if he cares so much, maybe he'd just finally settle down and-"

"Yeah, you're the one to talk. Where's your sodding wife and white picket fence!"

"Piss off Ron! I'm not fucking perfect!"

"Yeah and you're not fucking bright either!"

Justin's mouth pressed into a thin line and his nostrils flared. "Sod off," he said and in a few swift steps he made his way to the door.

Ron looked at him and his eyes darkened. "I swear to god, Justin if you open that door-"

From the corner of the room Dean swore as Justin opened the door with a quick flick and it swung open revealing the stunning woman standing profile to them with a hand resting on her hip.

She took no notice of the now open door, nor of the men in the room. Instead her lips were shaped into a small smile and her eyes were focused on the man that stood before her with hands in his pockets.

"Bollocks," Ron muttered and made a mental note to dispose of Justin later. Right now though he was only concerned about the show that was about enfold before his eyes.

Harry's face was composed as such that he allowed Allison to see that he was somewhat pleasantly surprised, but Ron knew better. It seemed that the two of them had been standing there for a few moments before Justin had decided to open the door.

How long they would have stood there, Ron couldn't say. What he did know though was that whatever the woman had to say, Harry would need a drink later. A very large drink. Preferably of the caffeine sort.

"What can I do for you, Alley?" Harry said and Ron was amazed at the calm in his voice.

"Well, you can invite me into your office," she lifted a dainty shoe. "I've been on my feet all day, you see."

"Actually, I was just on my way out," said Harry folding his arms over his chest.

Ron was mildly aware of Dean and Neville sidling up to him wanting to have a peek at the woman. She glanced their way and smiled coquettishly.

"I'm sorry, darling. I didn't know you had company."

Harry jaw clenched at the pet name and his eyes hardened. "Yeah, well. Maybe we'll catch up some other time."

Ron watched him turn and motion to one of the house elves to escort her back to the main gate. Allison slid a hand into her purse and pulled out a slip of parchment. Harry turned to walk back into his office, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm and he froze his face now stone.

"Harry, darling. Don't be so cold."

She stepped closer to him and her scent filled his nostrils.

"We have a history after all, and don't tell me that you have forgotten all of that, have you?"

Without turning to look at her he said in a low voice, "You know I haven't, Alley."

"Hmm, yes. Those were good times, Harry."

With a squeeze, she urged him to face her and he did so albeit very warily. She smirked up at him and pursed her lips.

"That's a dear."

Slowly, she slipped the parchment into his hand and his eyes flicked down to it. "I'm here for about a week," she purred. "If you're ever in the mood for some catching up, just send me an owl."

Then she took a step back and with a brief glance in Ron's direction, she followed the house elf back to the entrance, leaving Harry standing in his doorway staring at the parchment clasped in his hand.

He jammed it in his pocket.

Eyes bright and glinting with suppressed anger, Harry strode into his office and locked his gaze on Justin. _He's a dead man. _Ron thought, almost feeling sorry for the bugger.

"Did you get an eyeful?" Harry asked, pure irritation blazing in his eyes.

Justin watched his shoes. "Erm, yes," he said quietly.

"Satisfied?"

"You can…say that," said Justin, still not meeting his friend's gaze.

"Beautiful isn't she?"

"Listen, Harry I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have and it was none of my business to let her in."

"You're right. It wasn't." Then he paused and waited for Justin to look at him. Slowly the blue irises rose to meet green and Justin forced himself not to cringe.

Harry's voice was low but the anger was still very much present. "What I decide to keep private stays private," he said. "The next time you want some entertainment pick up a sodding book."

And as if to enforce his statement, Harry went over to his desk, opened a drawer and pulled out a thick maroon tomb. He threw it at Justin who managed to catch it with a small "oomph". With a dark look at the man, Harry accioed his cloak, pulled it on and left his office saying, "Come on then, the lot of you. I bet you're hungry."

Dean cleared his throat and followed him out the door with Neville at his heels, struggling with his own cloak. Justin paused to flip the book over in his hands. The words _Perspectives from the Past _sprang at him in gold letters. Before he could open it and flip through in curiosity, Ron pulled at his sleeve.

"Come on, you. Harry won't leave without us."

Justin looked as if he was going to say something, but instead he shut his mouth and nodded, acquiesced. He shrunk the book and stuffed it in his pocket. Following Ron out of the office, he shut the door behind him.


	4. Four

A/N: I know it's been an awfully long time, hasn't it? I'm sorry, but I guess all the fire had gone out of the story, but its back now and so am I. School has started once again, but there's only one more chapter to go so for those that are still interested, I won't keep you long. As always I must thank all of you for the reviews. Please let me know what you think. And enjoy.

_-------------------------------------------------------------------- _

_Love is the world's infinite mutability; lies, hatred,_

_Murder even, are all knit up in it; it is the inevitable_

_Blossoming of its opposites, a magnificent rose_

_Smelling faintly of blood. A dream which makes the world_

_Seem…an illusion._

_-_excerpt taken from _Pierre Corneille's **The Illusion, **_(Adapted by: _Tony Kushner_)

---------------------------------------------------------

As it turned out, lunch wasn't a complete bust. There was that awkward silence once they had taken their seats. Then the tension filled munching of cold sandwiches followed by audible swallows and interrupted by periods of gulping cold beverages. But once that was out the way, Neville retold his story of how he once had a mad wrestle with a magnolia, and that broke the ice. They were now stepping out onto the pavement, each wondering what to next, all dreading going back to their respected jobs.

Then a woman with bushy hair walked by.

Harry was momentarily stunned into silence as his eyes followed the figure across the street. There was a shout. "Julia!" The bushy head turned revealing a very lovely and unfamiliar face. Harry inwardly sighed and let out a breath he had not realized he'd held. Then he turned, meaning to go back to his friends' conversation and a woman collided into his chest.

She let out a small surprised, 'Oh!" and stumbled backwards a few steps from the impact; her bags falling onto the pavement. Harry immediately stooped to help her pick up her things and she thanked him with a smile. He blinked when he finally had a good look at her and his throat dried in recognition. Her eyes were brown. The Woman straightened and adjusted her purse on her shoulder. Harry swallowed and slowly raised his arm to hand the Woman a bag he had picked up. She took it from his stiff fingers. "Thanks," she said to him. Harry slowly rose, towering over her; he didn't say a word.

"Sorry," she said with cheeks mildly flushed and flashed him another sheepish grin, holding him with her gaze. "Rather clumsy of me."

He wanted to say something. He wanted to brush it off and act calm, suave, debonair. He wanted to flash her one of his charming smiles and say, "Don't worry about it." So Harry opened his mouth and then his throat, the little bastard, decided to close up. He managed a small croak. Well that was attractive. Harry snapped his mouth shut, and nodded vigorously. What was wrong with him? He watched her smile slightly falter, but her eyes danced with amusement. Then without another word she stepped around him and continued on her way.

"Don't worry about it," Harry murmured to her retreating back that disappeared into the crowd. He was an idiot.

"You're an idiot," Ron said, eerily voicing his thoughts.

Harry briefly shut his eyes and refrained from pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation. He did though manage to give his best friend a rather fantastic grimace in response.

"Did you get her number, mate?" Justin asked.

"Nah, she was a muggle. Harry doesn't do muggles, do ya, Harry?" Dean teased.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and gave his friend a scowl. "Sod off."

"Right, well when you ladies finish flirting you reckon we could stop by Fred and George's shop? I've gotta drop off something of theirs," said Ron. They made their way down the street and Harry threw one last glance over his shoulder. Well, out of sight out of mind right? Oh, he begged to differ.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Work was hell. Harry took off his glasses and placed them on the table for a moment as he rubbed his eyes. Rain water poured in a steady stream down the window of the café. Outside the steady pull of traffic occupied the streets with the many people roaming the shops for company. He smothered a yawn with his hand.

"You look like you need a pick me up," Rosie said with one hand on her hip.

Harry rubbed his head, "God, I need more than a pick me up, Rosie. You don't happen to have anything stronger, do you?"

Rosie shook her head, amusement glinting in her eyes. "Nah, 'fraid not. If you wanted that kind of drink you should have gone to Tom's," she said, clearly referring to the Leaky Cauldron which was not that far off.

Harry shook his head. "This was closer." He also didn't want to mention the animosity that came with the place. Rosie looked at him for a moment then nodded as if in understanding.

"I'll get you your usual, dear." With that she clicked away, leaving Harry to once again stare out the window.

The bell chimed and immediately his gaze went to the newly admitted customer. But it was only the old man that often glared in his direction whenever Harry was being especially annoying. "Evening," the man nodded at Harry before taking his customary seat with a wince and a sigh. Harry nodded back in greeting with a tight lipped smile. He scratched the back of his neck and looked miserably at the empty seat two tables away from him and to his right.

At once Rosie was at his side and Harry brightened. His gaze trained on the sea green mug in her hand. "Here you go love," she out loud slightly leaning forward and placing it on the table. Then she said in a quiet voice, "I put a spot of firewhiskey and butterbeer in it. Won't taste the same but it'll give you that little kick."

Harry looked up at her with an awed expression. Then he picked up the mug and hesitantly brought it to his lips. A dash of fire, a bubble of warmth and a shot of caffeine slid down his throat with one swallow. Harry nearly gasped for air and he raised his eyes to meet hers.

"Marry me," he rasped.

Rosie laughed. "You're five years too late, darling. Thanks for the offer though," she said with a friendly pat on his hand. A faint blush tinged her cheeks. Then she was gone.

Time went by and Harry ordered another cup then another. He chatted with the old man whom he came to know as Ian for a bit. The he ordered another cup. Slowly the café began to empty and lightening lit the sky. Ian took his leave and Harry once again took to the window; his thumb toying with the empty cup. Rosie was cleaning the tables.

"She's not coming in anytime soon, you know."

"What?" Harry said, startled from his thoughts, but Rosie didn't answer and continued with her work, turning up the chairs. Harry gazed at her calculatingly

"What makes you think that I don't come in here for the coffee?"

"Trust me, sweetheart. If you only came in here for the coffee, I'd know."

Harry laughed. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

"And you're getting defensive. Now, we're closing up. She should be in here next week if not tomorrow. And don't expect me to tell you her name. I'd think being the man you are you'd have already gotten it a long time ago instead of wasting your time just staring." She sounded an awful lot like Ron.

A slow smile crept over his face. "I don't stare," he said. "and I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you."

"Oh, it's all the more exciting for me than it is for you, trust me. You are Harry Potter after all," she teased.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh god, spare me." He got up and left some notes on the table. "I'll be back for the coffee tomorrow," he said on his way to the door.

"I told you, she'll be here next week."

"Sod off, Rosie."

"A while ago you wanted to marry me."

"I take it back." he said over his shoulder and her laughter followed him out the door.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

A jingle of keys in the lock and Harry was home. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the rack along the wall. The he padded into the kitchen to make himself something to eat.

Much later, sitting in his chair, he swallowed the last of his bite and put down the paper. He drummed his hands on the table in agitation then stood and decided to do the dishes.

_Oh! I'm sorry! She says and he hands her the bags that had fallen from her grasp. Her eyes were brown. _

Harry blinked.

The water was running.

He shut off the tap, dried his hands and let out a breath. _Thanks, she said to him and he rose but didn't say a word. _Harry grit his teeth. He needed to do something. He stepped out into his living room and straightened out a pillow.

Okay. Now what? _Sorry, she said with flushed cheeks. _Harry groaned. Out of sight, out of mind. Come on, Potter. Out of sight, out of mind. Unbidden, the Woman's smiling face appears behind his eyes. He paces. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. Harry turned on some music and paced some more.

"Stupid," he muttered and he stuffed his hands in his pockets. He paused and slowly pulled a scrap of parchment out. He stared at the address printed out in curvy writing. He stared at it for a long time before scrubbing a hand over his mouth and rubbing the back of his neck. Gritting his teeth, Harry strode to the cupboard and took out the jar of floo powder. Shaking his head at the insanity of his actions, knowing that he'd regret it in the morning, Harry stepped into the flames. He licked his lips. He could just stay home. He could just pull himself out of the fireplace, dust himself off and go to bed, but then he'd see Her behind shut eyes. He needed to forget her and if this didn't work, then nothing would.

Slowly, dully Harry spoke and the flames took him away.

------------------------------------------------------------

He was buzzed. Slightly, but it was enough. She on the other hand was nearly sober. They had gone out for drinks. Harry supplied the bill and of course the late night suite at his place. They had gotten to his home by broom and throughout the ride Allison was shrieking and laughing and holding him tightly with sweaty palms. Harry only chuckled and often hissed at her to be quiet. And when she had decided to place kisses along his neck, Harry decided to ignore the awful twinge in his stomach.

Not much later, they were at his door. "Wait." Muttered whispers and giggles sounded amongst the jingling of keys. "Wait, Alley. Don't- Christ. I've gotta get the damned door open first."

The door burst open and they stumble through, hands clutching at each other. Her purse and his keys fall unceremoniously to the floor, and in his haste he pushes her up against the door and lifts her. She automatically wraps her legs around him and clutches at him fiercely, nails digging into his skin and scraping deep furrows along his now bare back. He tore his mouth from hers and brought his attention to her neck. Her hands grasp his hair and pulls. He hears a faint whisper of "Hurry" and he grimaces as the face of the Woman shimmers behind his shut eyes. And suddenly it's Her legs that are pulling him close, Her sweet lips taking his own, and Her delicate hands tracing the planes of his back with a gentle caress. Her hips rose and her back arched, exposing her pale throat.

She says his name. He nearly moans in despair and brought a hand to her waist, his other braced against the door. . He wanted to say Her name. She gasped. He wanted to shout it in the empty room. Her lips parted. He could see her, and he could feel her, and her taste filled his senses. But he couldn't say her name. God, all he wanted was to say her sodding name. But he didn't even have that.

Pleasure and pain. Pain and pleasure. The two went hand in hand and drove Harry to the point of despair that tore at his insides with a savage lust. With each heaving shuddering breath, his mind struggled to draw a name from her body. But it was no use. Then for one shining moment his lips managed to taste the word: _Granger_, but it was lost in Alison's small cry as she crushed her mouth to his in a sultry kiss that was meant to inflame him. Yet it only went to further ignite the disgust that was slowly building in his chest.

He was a coward. A bloody spineless coward that used one woman to get another out of his head. Surely Alley didn't mind. From the sound of it and most assuredly from the feel of it, she didn't mind one bit. But Harry minded. He minded far too much for his taste, and soon it became unbearable to keep his eyes shut and cling to the fruitless illusion that was the nameless Woman. But he was close. Oh, he was so bloody close.

Swearing, Harry pulled away from her, letting her feet drop to the ground.

"Wha-What?" Alison said in a daze and her eyes went from glassy to set and she blinked furiously. Her chest rose and fell with each breath. "Honey, what's wrong?"

Having secured his belt once more, chest heaving and slick with sweat, Harry shook his head and ran a shaking hand through his hair.

"Why'd you stop?" Alley said, pulling her skirt back down. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders making her look very alluring. Harry gritted his teeth. What he needed was peace. And a maybe a knife in his heart.

"Sorry," he said. "This… I can't do this. Sorry."

"You can't…_what_?" she said, her voice taking on a dangerous tone.

Harry ignored her and crossed to his cupboard. Taking a handful of floo power in his hand, he went and tossed it in his fireplace. Green flames roared and danced in the hearth.

"There. It'll take you straight home. I'm sorry about this Alley but I can't just-"

Her cheeks flamed in righteous anger. "You _were _just," she said.

He took her wrist gently yet firmly in his grasp and pulled her to the fireplace. "Goodnight, Allison," Harry said in a clipped tone.

Allison stood in the flames, arms crossed over her chest. "Harry Potter, if you believe for one _second _that I will ever-"

"Hogsmead Village, flat 24," Harry shouted into the fireplace for her before sticking his head back out just in time to see a very angry Allison engulfed in green flames. Then she was gone.

Harry stood there, staring at the empty fireplace. He muttered a spell and his door locked. He sighed heavily and trudged to the living room. He stared out the window for a long moment, the pale glint of the moon falling across his hard features. Then he threw himself on the sofa.

Through his eyes, the Woman smiled back at him looking quite satisfied.

"Damnit." he muttered.


	5. Five

Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine, save for the ones you don't recognize.

Author's Notes: Well it's done. I do hope you all are satisfied by the ending. This was definitely a pleasure to write and I thank you all for your reveiws, your kind words and your pushing for me to update sooner. I hope that this story has managed to serve its purpose. I hope it's managed to provide some sort of escape, to give us a little something to think of, and to maybe give us the idea that yes, the simple pleasures of sitting in a cafe drinking a coffee and talking to another does matter. We're all moving so quickly, and I think that we just need to sit down, lean back in our seats, shut our eyes and take a sip.

* * *

_The art of illusion is the art of love,_

_and the art of love _

_is the blood-red heart of the world._

_At times I think there's nothing else._

_-_excerpt taken from _Pierre Corneille's **The Illusion, **_(Adapted by: _Tony Kushner_)

* * *

Wow it was crowded. Through the window, Harry could see a gaggle of people crowding the café and as he crossed the street, he could see the busy silhouette of Rosie moving from table to table taking orders and placing cups in front of thirsty customers. Harry reached for the door then hesitated. Should he really go in there on what looked like to be one of the busiest days Nice Dream ever had? He did want a coffee. 

The wind was picking up and the rain started to fall. Harry raised the collar of his jacket and stepped aside as the door swung open. Light and the loud chattering of people and clattering of cups on saucers and spoons on plates burst from the now open doorway. A man ran a hand along the length of his tie as another opened an umbrella. A third held the door open for Harry while he continued talking to his companions. Harry nodded his thanks and stepped into the café.

The door shut behind him with a tinkle and a waitress brushed by him. A tray loaded with cups and saucers missed him by a hair as Harry was forced to immediately jump back from its sudden swinging attack.

"Sorry, love!" the waitress called over her shoulder as she squeezed through the people lined up for a cup.

A young girl pushed past him on her way to the door and Harry tilted his shoulders to let her through. He sighed. So much for getting some relaxation. His table was surely taken and it looked like there was no other place to sit. Did he really want a coffee _that _bad? Yeah. He really did.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Harry squeezed his way through to the line.

"You chose quite an interesting hour to show up, dear," Rosie said to his back and Harry shuffled to the side, allowing her to pass.

"I didn't think it would be crowded at this time," he said as he followed her path around the tables to the bar.

"Here you are, dears," she said with a smile at the customers and she set the steaming cups on the table. The tray now empty, Rosie turned to look up at him over her shoulder. "Well, so did everyone else. We've got a bunch of tourists in from Canada and Sweden. A school they say. They'll be a while."

"Bugger."

Rosie took another order and Harry paused to let an old woman through.

"Where you off to?" Rosie asked once she resumed her trek to the bar.

"Alaska. I hear it's out back past the espresso machine."

Rosie swatted his arm then nodded a passing greeting to a regular seated by the window. She tsked. "Cheeky now, aren't you? If you think you're getting one to go, you're crazy. You look knackered. Go on and have a seat over there then, they look just about done. Quick before someone else takes it. I'll bring you your cup. Go on! " Rosie nodded in the direction of the table to their right.

"Oy, Rosalyn."

Rosie looked to the bar. "Coming!"

Harry slipped in between the customers and then tossed his bag onto the seat. He sniffed and shrugged off his jacket then glanced out the window before sliding onto the seat with a thankful sigh. The loud gibberish of the combined voices filled his senses and drowned out the otherwise soothing music. Harry leaned back into his chair, folded his hands over his chest and shut his eyes.

"You be needing the paper, son?" A voice broke through from behind him and Harry cracked open one eye lazily then blinked and swiveled in his seat. Ian looked at him with his usual frown. Harry sat up slightly.

"You don't need it?"

The old man shook his head and coughed into his hand. "Nah. I've read it all already. Nothing interesting anyway."

Harry shrugged in thanks and with a gnarled hand, Ian passed him the paper. Harry turned back around, placed the paper onto the table and looked at the front page. Same old. He looked behind him to the bar and saw Rosie placing cups on her tray. She deftly lifted it as if it weighed a feather and Harry's eyes wistfully locked onto the cups. His head followed her and her tray as she passed by his table. _Damn. _Okay, so he had to wait a bit more for his coffee. Harry shrugged his shoulders. He could wait.

He rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses and once again leaned back into his seat, folded his arms, and shut his eyes. His muscles relaxed as he breathed deeply. And you know, if one really got into it, the voices could actually become reassuring and quite possibly soothing even.

"Excuse me?" a soft voice drifted through his senses and his eyes snapped open.

He swallowed.

"Is it alright if I could sit here?"

It took seconds for Harry to remember where exactly 'here' was, and good lord was she talking to him? The Woman looked expectantly down at him, a satchel slung over her shoulder and she clutched a dripping umbrella in her hand.

She looked rather wet.

Well it was raining outside, and water does naturally tend to cause some dampness even if one had an umbrella handy, but wow did she look amazing with hair frizzled and slightly wet strands still clinging to her forehead, and her cheeks were rosy from the cold, and she did look awfully tired so of course she could sit here, why would he even refuse? I mean all he had to do was say yes, say something, say anything for that matter because the long silence was becoming a bit awkward- No, hell it was fantastically awkward. So awkward that he was becoming red with embarrassment and she was smiling. Why was she smiling? Did he say something funny? Something witty? Charming? Profound? No, he hadn't said _anything_ and maybe that was why she was smiling down at him because he looked a right fool for staying silent and not answering her question.

Harry panicked.

What _was _her question?

Suddenly from the table behind him, Ian began to have a coughing fit, although the hacking cough did sound something like a "Yes."

Yes? Oh! Er, "Yes!" Harry nearly shouted, placing his hands on the chair and pushing himself upright into what he hoped looked like a cool-laid-back position. "Erm," he cleared his throat. "Yeah, of course you can." he rasped offhandedly, his traitorous voice slightly squeaking He cleared his throat again and looked around for any sight of Rosie and the cup of salvation.

"It's very busy tonight, isn't it?"

His head snapped back to her and he was surprised to see that she was now sitting in front of him, her resting hand on her chin-Wait. I mean her chin resting on her hand.

"S-Sorry?"

Dear god, get it together now, you're starting to sound like Quirrell.

"Busy. I said it's busy, I mean, for a Friday morning that is."

Wasn't she supposed to be out? Gone somewhere and not get back until sometime next week? Damn Rosie and her bad information.

_Maybe she changed her mind. _

"Yeah," he said. It seemed that he was now only capable of dull monosyllabic answers. Hurrah.

"So has Rosie come by for your order yet?"

"No."

_Oh come on, you bloody idiot. You can do better than that. _

"Oh, yes well, it is crowded and I think they're understaffed today," she said glancing around.

"Yeah," Harry answered.

_Yeah? That's it? Pathetic. You disgust me, Potter. You might as well just get up and leave. Forget the sodding coffee. _Harry heaved an inward sigh and the Woman looked down at her hand as her fingers gently tapped against the table.

Harry opened his mouth to say something and-- "So," the Woman said. Harry shut his mouth. "Where have you just snuck out from?"

"Erm, work," Harry managed.

"Oh, so you're just here for lunch then. I'm the same thing, though it's school instead."

_I know. _He thought, though he figured that saying that aloud wouldn't come off so well, so he opted for an "Oh."

Things were looking grim. If there was ever a moment for coffee, now was definitely the time.

The Woman tilted her head slightly as she gazed at him and said, "I don't mean to be rude, but you're very closed mouthed, aren't you?"

_Only when it comes to you._

Harry's lips twitched into a semblance of a smile as he said, "Not… all the time." He could feel the heat in his cheeks. Wonderful. That'll definitely reel her in.

And like an angel sent from a merciful god, Rosie appeared at their table. She apologized for making them wait so long and took the Woman's order.

"I'll just have a small mocha today, Rosie, thank you."

Rosie nodded and turned to Harry. "Your usual?"

Before Harry could say yes or nod, the Woman spoke up saying, "Yes, he'll have his usual." Then she looked him in the eye as she said, "Black. Regular. Is that right?"

Harry's eyes never left hers. "Yeah," he said. "That's right."

"Well then, I'll be right back with your drinks," Rosie said with a twinkle in her eye as she looked from one to the other. Then they were alone once more though this time, Harry was far more alert and very much himself.

"You knew. This whole time, you knew."

"Of course I knew. You weren't very subtle about it were you?"

Harry smiled. "No, I guess I wasn't." He leaned forward, no longer feeling awkward and he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a finger. "What gave me away?"

She leaned back in her chair and studied him for a moment, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "I think I started to suspect when you had several coughing fits as you passed my table."

"Oh hell, did I really do that?" he said, running a hand through his hair in embarrassment.

She laughed. "You did. I didn't know if I should express concern or continue ignoring you until you approached me properly."

"Well, clearly you went for the ignoring bit."

She folded her hands and rested her chin on them, eyes alight with amusement. "Yes I did, didn't I?"

Rosie came back, set their drinks on the table and left.

"Did you really have to follow me on the bus though?" she said adding two spoonfuls of sugar into her cup.

"Isn't that sweet enough?" he asked, watching her scoop up another spoonful from the bowl.

She held his gaze as she silently sent the spoonful tumbling into her drink. She stirred the contents, placed the spoon gently on her saucer and brought the cup to her lips. Harry winced as he watched her swallow an ample amount and she put the cup down. The Woman bit her lip and raised her eyes to the ceiling for a moment as if allowing her taste buds to settle. "No." she said and picked up the spoon in the bowl once again. Harry laughed.

"So did you enjoy my class?" she asked.

Harry raised his hands up in defence. "Alright, I'm sorry, what else do you want me to say?"

She took a sip of her coffee.

"God, how can you drink that?"

"With much practice." She pushed her cup across the table and over to him. "Would you like a taste? It's not my usual but it's close enough," she teased.

Harry smiled. So she had remembered that, well why wouldn't she? "No thanks. Knowing your taste in coffee, one sip and my tongue will disintegrate."

She sniffed and took her cup back. "It's not _that _sweet."

Harry raised his eyebrows at this.

"Oh come off it, you've had it before and your tongue is perfectly alright."

Harry raised his eyebrows again and it earned him a laugh, which pleased him very much. He kept his eyes on her as he drank from his mug and was interested to note that her eyes immediately faltered for a moment going to rest on her hands, which seemed to fidget. She looks up at him again then looked away and shifted in her seat. _She's nervous. _This realization made him insanely happy and his eyes darkened.

"Please don't look at me like that," she murmured and looked up at him through her lashes.

Harry blinked and immediately shifted his gaze. "Sorry," he said. The conversation seemed to dwindle now until all that was left for them to do was to sip their drinks and steal glances at each other. Once their gazes met however, their eyes would quickly flit to another part of the room.

"So," he said as he toyed with his deep green mug. "What do we do now?"

She met his stare with her own and her lips parted as if unsure of what to say. The Woman looked down at the table then back up at him, and she held out her hand. "I'm Hermione," she said.

_Hermione. _

Harry took her outstretched hand with his own.

_Hermione Granger. _

"Harry," he said.

They shook hands. He grinned at her, and she smiled back.

"So what are you studying?" he asked her.

* * *

It was her smile that caught his eye. Her smile had drawn him in, pulled him closer, and held him it its pearly grip. So naturally she was the one that approached him. Sitting there listening to her talk about her program with much enthusiasm, eyes bright with excitement and hands gesturing as she spoke, Harry gazed at her intently. He took a sip of his coffee and let the hot liquid slide down his throat. 

She had dark circles under her eyes, her hair was a frizzled bushy mess, and her taste in coffee made his tongue want to shrivel to the size of a pea.

And still, he found her to be captivatingly, achingly, lovely.

And Harry watched her. And he listened. And he laughed, and he smiled, and out of the blue he was struck with a sudden revelation that burrowed into him and never surfaced: _Fuck. _He thought. _That's the one for me. _

And it was as if at that moment she could read his mind, for she paused in her speech, took a sip from her cup, and gave him a smile.


End file.
